The Revelation
by Emmy131
Summary: This Lullaby. What exactly was Dexter thinking when he found out that Remy, Ice Queen extraordinaire, had bought plastic ware for him? He might be a bit scatterbrained, but no way would he let Remy's excuses keep him from a huge revelation. Oneshot


This Lullaby is the property of Sarah Dessen, as well as the characters and the dialogue of this story. I am in no way affiliated with Sarah Dessen. No copyright infringement intended.

I wrote this last night in a fit of romance, so it's a little lame. Okay, very lame. Review anyway?

This Lullaby

Page 171-173

Dexter

Remy pulled up to the house and put the car in park. I had been staring at her, and I quickly averted my eyes from her face—even though she was so cute when she was embarrassed. I couldn't help how amazing I found her; it wasn't my fault we were made for each other.

Remy slid out of the car and I followed, opening the trunk and pulling out my groceries (I was going to be feasting those next few days, I tell you). I grabbed the lid of the trunk, ready to close it, when I realized I had left a bag inside the car. I glanced quizzically at my bags: OJ, peanut butter, bread, and Doritos. That was all I could remember buying; besides, this bag was knotted at the top—no way would I ever do that.

I leaned in and pulled it out, then turned to Remy and asked her what it was. At her hasty dismissal and slowly darkening cheeks, my curiosity piqued. She attempted to snatch the bag back, but it was easy enough to keep it out of her reach—she was just too small. "What is it?" I asked again, and she tossed off some lie about it being for herself, averting her eyes.

I frowned thoughtfully, the bag still over my head. Remy glared up at it, and I fought the urge to lean down, grab her around the waist, and swing her around like a doll. "Is it a secret?" I guessed, glancing curiously up at the bag.

"Yes," she huffed, pursing her full lips. Why is God so unfair? Isn't there some unattractive girl who could really use some of Remy's excessive gorgeousness?

Is that even a word?

After clarifying that the contents of the bag were indeed a secret, I frowned in denial. Time for a test. I shook the bag, noting the quiet clacking of plastic. "Doesn't sound secret," I informed her knowledgably.

She expressed doubt and annoyance at my answer, as always (it's nice to have some stability in life, isn't it?), and once again demanded the bag back. I enlightened her with my tampon theory (essentially, the contents of this bag could not be a secret due to the fact that they did not sound like tampons) and chuckled when she glared, then returned the bag to her.

Remy considered herself utterly mysterious, a complete secret, but I knew I was different; her rules didn't apply to me. I didn't know why, or to what extent, but I thanked God for it. I knew Remy would tell me what the whole deal was. Oh look, peanut butter…

"If you must know," Remy piped up suddenly (I suppressed an all-knowing grin), "it's just this plastic ware I bought at Linens Etc."

I could do this. I could figure out Remy Starr, solve her puzzle, and then I would devise a way to hold on to her, to avoid her break-up speeches forever, and she would have no choice but to stay with me, never leaving, never thinking of me as Just Another Guy, as she did all the others.

Wait. What were we talking about? "Plastic ware," I remembered.

Remy sputtered something about sales. I blinked at her, attempting to subdue random thoughts about bananas and Milwaukee long enough to process the meaning of this secret.

I slowly recounted my definition of plastic ware, just to make sure I wasn't imagining the connection that had suddenly made itself clear.

Remy answered casually, avoiding eye contact. I blinked, utterly perplexed.

'Okay,' I thought to myself. 'Does Remy, or does Remy not, live in a house where they have actual dishes?'

'She does,' I answered myself reasonably. Okay.

"Did you need plastic ware?" I directed this question to Remy, watching in fascination as she winced, ever so slightly. I thought of the pathetic excuse for dishes that my place currently housed, and reminded Remy of this.

She completely ignored the remark, desperately attempting to change the subject, and I knew. I hadn't been making up the whole love thing—it was true. It was true true true, and there wasn't a single thing Little Miss Perfect Remy Starr could do about it!

I couldn't suppress my knowing smile this time; I was just too elated. Remy Starr? Perfect, gorgeous, cold-hearted Remy Starr? "You bought me plastic ware," I grinned, unable to help myself from calling her out. "Didn't you?"

Remy, of course, immediately denied this, feigning coolness.

But no matter—I knew, and she knew, and I was just too darn happy to keep it in. "You did!" I laughed out of pure joy. Remy Starr! "You bought me some forks. And knives. And spoons. Because—"

"No," she interrupted vehemently, her face flushed as she glared at me—I had never seen her this embarrassed before. And because of me!

"—you love me!" I finished, too exhilarated to stop. How incredible! I didn't have to guess anymore. I loved the Ice Queen and she loved me back. She loved me enough to buy me plastic ware!

Remy repeated her 'it was on sale' line, distressed in her attempts to find a way out of the truth. But no way could she escape me. Not now.

"You love me," I reiterated, relishing the taste of the words in my mouth, and grabbed the proof of her love in the same hand as the Doritos. What a day. I started toward the house, dazed with my revelation—and yet I was so completely sure of the fact that I would stake my life on it. I would stake the Truth Squad on it!

I hope Lucas doesn't eat my Doritos…

Behind me, Remy was bleating something about seven dollars and clearance. Whatever it was, it didn't matter. She could make up all the excuses she wanted, but we both knew the truth.

"You. Love. Me." And I love you.


End file.
